


The Best Friend a Man Could Have

by mcfair_58



Category: Bonanza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcfair_58/pseuds/mcfair_58
Summary: A Halloween tale of a little disobedient boy, told by one of the Cartwright's workers.





	The Best Friend a Man Could Have

The Best Friend a Man Could Have

I’m here to tell you, there isn’t a dull day around the Ponderosa with those three young’uns of Ben Cartwright’s. I’ve been with the family since before the youngest was born and the antics those three can get up to.... Well, it’s no joke that old Ben’ s hair has gone from a steel gray to white because of them.  
Mine’s still black, but it’s a wonder.  
Anyhow, it’s been a joy of mine to watch those boys grow up. Young Adam, well, he’s almost a man. The boy turned seventeen last spring. He’s set to go off to an Eastern college next year – something his ma and pa are mighty proud of. But for now he’s doing the best job he can here on the ranch taking care of what needs to be taken care of.  
Including those two little imps, his brothers.  
Of course, the one isn’t so little. Hoss may be only eleven, but that boy’s as tall as a Ponderosa Pine and just about as strong. He’s already begging his father to let him leave school, but Ben won’t hear of it. Says the boy needs an education and he’s right. There’s far too many cowpokes who never made it past their first reader and it takes both brawn and brains to stay alive in the West.   
The youngest Cartwright hasn’t started school yet. Little Joe, we call him. His mama’s a beauty but Marie’s on the small side, so there’s not much hope the boy will ever outgrow the nickname. To survive, Little Joe will have to learn how to use his small size to his advantage.  
Plenty of fellows I’ve known have had to do that.   
Still, he’s a cute little spark with those golden-brown curls and great big green eyes; all piss and vinegar. Sure of himself and sure he can do anything. Those are good qualities in a man but dangerous ones in a babe, I can tell you.  
And I will tell you.  
It started on All Hallows Eve. You know, the night before All Saints Day? The night when the spirits come close and cross over into our world. People have funny ways of celebrating this night of mischief. They put cookies on their doorsteps to appease the good spirits, and light lanterns and place them on their windowsills to ward off the evil ones.   
And they throw parties.  
The Cartwrights are known for their parties. No one in Nevada throws a better one. Their Chinese cook, Hop Sing, he outdoes himself every time. The little man’s reputation for laying out the best table, laden with dozens of delectable dishes and sugary sweets fit for a king, is territory wide. Being Chinese, Hop Sing likes to do the ranch house up right too. For All Hallows Eve that means hanging lots of brightly lit lanterns. It’s a wonder to see those golden-white orbs dangling from long chains made of orange and black paper.  
Funny how those paper chains can come in handy.

It was a brisk October day. Colorful leaves and dead brown nettles caught in an autumn wind whirled around the yard like partners in a square dance. I was lazing near the barn, doing nothing in particular, when the front door burst open and Hop Sing came flying out yelling at the top of his lungs.  
“Mistah Adam! Mistah Hoss! Where you go?” The man from China halted on the porch and called out again, his temper and his tone going up a notch. “You come now! Much to do before party! Need tall boys to hang chains and lanterns. Put food out. Chop chop!”  
It surprised me, I have to admit. I must have been dozing earlier because I didn’t know they were in the barn. At the last ‘chop!’, the stable door opened and Ben’s oldest boy came out. I can tell you I did a double-take. Adam didn’t look like Adam. It took me a moment to recognize him because of what he was wearing. The teenager had tossed his step-mother’s black velvet opera cloak around his shoulders, and he had what looked like one of Marie’s satin purses turned upside-down on his head. I blew out a snort at the sight.  
“What Mistah Adam do with Missy Marie’s cloak in dirty barn?” Hop Sing protested. “Not easy clean out manure and straw!”  
“It’s all right, Hop Sing. I asked Marie,” Adam replied as he halted a few feet away from the fuming man. “She said it was okay.”  
Hop Sing eyed him suspiciously. “Mistah Adam not go to opera tonight! Help with party!”  
“No, I’m not going to the opera,” the boy laughed as he reached up and adjusted what I could now see was a round red satin hat with feathers on it. Adam cocked it jauntily on his head. “But Professor Ima Always Wright will be putting in an appearance at tonight’s party and he has to perfect his act.”  
Hop Sing looked like he’d been blindsided by a bull.  
“Professor....”  
Adam grinned. Those dimples must have come from his ma. “Ima Always Wright.”  
The man from China scowled. “What you talk about?” Hop Sing jumped forward to place a hand on the boy’s head. “Number one son sick? He need medicine?”  
“Adam ain’t sick, Hop Sing,” Ben’s number two son announced as he walked out of the barn dragging number three behind him. “He’s gonna give a performance tonight at the party just like that Professor Mar-vell did in Eagle Station the other day.”  
Hop Sing still didn’t get it. “Performance? What performance?”  
“Adam can read minds, Hop Sing!” Little Joe announced proudly, his eyes wide with wonder. “I seen him do it!”  
The dimples deepened.  
“Show him, Adam!” the little boy shouted.  
“Yeah,” Hoss echoed. “Let’s show Hop Sing.”  
Hop Sing might have, but I didn’t miss the look the two older boys exchanged.   
Adam pursed his lips as if considering his brother’s request and then, a moment later, took hold of both ends of Marie’s cloak. Swirling it about him, he completed a full circle and then bowed.   
“Professor Ima Always Wright is at your command,” he announced, his tone both solemn and grand. “Ask and he will tell you the future or the past. There is no such thing as a lost object or an unknown.” Ben’s eldest paused dramatically – and I didn’t miss the glance at Little Joe. “Nothing is hidden from him.”  
The youngest Cartwright’s head was going up and down faster than a man could spit. “Nothing. I mean...nothing!” he echoed.  
Hop Sing stared at Adam a moment longer – and then, he got it.   
“What would you like to know, my friend?” Adam asked with a wink as Hoss sidled over and moved behind their cook.   
The little man pretended to consider it. “Hop Sing ask easy questions first,” he declared. “How many fingers he hold up behind back?”  
Little Joe was looking at Adam. He didn’t see his middle brother hold up six fingers.  
Adam put a hand to his forehead. He winced and moaned as if in pain before answering with a wavering voice, “Wait...the wandering spirits are speaking...I see...six!”  
Little Joe turned to look at the Chinese man. Hop Sing brought his hands around the front, held up six fingers, and managed to look astonished.   
“He’s right! Ima Always Wright is right!” the four-year-old shouted as he clapped his hands.  
Adam looked very serious. “Now, my good man, certainly there is something important you would like to know. About the future perhaps?” The teenager’s fingers went to his forehead. “Ask and you shall be told.”  
Hop Sing anchored his hands on his hips and looked squarely at Little Joe. “Little boy always in trouble. Trouble with father, trouble with mother; trouble with Hop Sing. What Little Joe need to do to keep out of trouble today so he not miss party?”  
Little Joe had gone positively white. He blinked and turned toward Adam again – his young face so intent it was all his older brothers could do not to laugh.   
“I don’t know,” Adam droned, “that’s a mighty tall order. Let me see...yes...the roaming spirits are talking.” The older boy pretended to go into a trance, rolling his eyes back in his head and swaying as he intoned, “The spirits see a boy with curly hair, with eyes of green beyond compare. Him they put to this task; from him three things they would ask. A basket woven of branches new, stout enough for morning dew. Feathers to line it, fallen from wings; soft enough for the beds of kings. And last of all, what is most rare, fur to line it of rabbit hair.” Adam held still a moment and then blinked, as if coming back to the present. He looked at Hoss and then at Hop Sing.   
“Did I say anything?” he asked innocently.   
I can tell you, that middle boy of Ben’s was having a hard time not splitting a gut.   
Little Joe was holding up his fingers and counting. One. Two. Three. He looked at each of them in turn and then, without a word, shot into the house.  
Adam took Marie’s satin hat off his head and placed it under his arm. He smiled as he began to remove his borrowed cloak.  
“That ought to keep the little scamp occupied long enough for us to hang the Halloween lanterns, don’t you think?” the older boy asked with a wink.   
Now, all of the things Little Joe needed to complete his task were there in the yard – tree branches, plenty of chicken feathers in the coop, and fur tossed off when some rabbit became a wolf’s supper. Adam thought he’d given the four-year-old an assignment that would occupy him for a half-hour or so.  
What Adam hadn’t counted on was his little brother’s imagination. 

I shouldn’t have gone with him. I knew it when the boy came over and asked. I’m strong enough I could have held him back and kept him in the yard, but you know, there’s something about All Hallows Eve that makes a fellow want to take a chance. It makes him want to take a moonlight stroll through the tall pine trees just to see if, maybe, what folks say is true.   
I have to admit the tiny tyke was prepared. Little Joe had thought through what Professor Ima Always Wright Cartwright had said and he’d gathered together all the things he’d need to fulfill his task. It kind of surprised me that no one in the house paid any attention to him carting them out, but then they were all busy. The light was going and the guests would arrive soon. Adam and Hoss were hanging paper chains and lighting lanterns. Hop Sing was in the kitchen with Marie putting the finishing touches on some spooky gingerbread cookies, and Ben? Well, Ben Cartwright was adding figures and completing the last minute paperwork he needed to attend to before he could enjoy the festivities. No one noticed one little boy with a mission. Little Joe Cartwright was going to make sure he didn’t get in trouble and miss the party –   
By doing exactly what he wasn’t supposed to.  
The boy was armed for battle. He’d dug his brother Hoss’ butterfly net out of the closet and carried it before him like a lance, intent on catching a bird and plucking the needed feathers. Hop Sing’s woven carrier for kindling would be used to gather the pliable branches necessary to weave a basket. And most important of all – for he’d need to take the rabbit home to trim its fur – were the chains of bright orange and black paper that he intended to put around the rabbit’s neck and use as a leash.   
Like I said, how could I resist going?  
And so, like two knight errants we set out, leaving the Ponderosa behind and heading into the wild, wicked, and wintry woods. As night fell so had the temperature. The autumn wind was crisp – so crisp you could bite into it like a juicy apple – and we shivered as we walked. We moved together as one, Little Joe bearing his arms and me, sauntering along beside him with my mane of black hair blowing in the wind. We didn’t say anything as we went along, for the fey creatures that roam the Earth on All Hallows Eve frighten easily. Little Joe told me he knew they were watching and he wasn’t going to let them down. I nudged him once or twice to ask if he was really sure this was the right thing to do. With a look of determination worthy of Joshua on the day he ‘fit’ the battle of Jericho, Ben’s youngest son thrust the butterfly net out before him as a sword, while wielding the woven basket as a shield. The orange and black chains he’d wound around his tiny chest so as not to lose them.  
Bird, bunny, and branch beware!   
I followed the boy as he worked his way deeper into the woods. It seemed to me that he had a destination in mind. When I nudged Little Joe again he shoved back and told me that Hoss had taken him out and shown him a secret place just a few days before. It was a small clearing about a mile from the ranch house. The boy explained how he knew he could find what he needed there and find it quickly. Hoss told him how the birds had eaten seed from his palm while he sat beneath the big old pine at its heart, flying right down to kiss him on the nose. His brother told him too that there was a rabbit warren there and one of the rabbits had come right up and shook his hand.   
Of course, I knew all of it was a flight of fancy, but I’d come along – not only hoping to meet fey folk – but to protect the boy.   
Just in case there was someone else in the woods tonight.   
We’d been walking near an hour when Little Joe signaled and we stopped. The boy took a step forward and then turned those wide eyes on me. Night had fallen painting them indigo blue and they glistened in the moonlight. Little Joe crouched and pulled my head down next to his as he spoke.   
“Shh,” he said and pointed.  
I saw them.  
Spirits. Dancing around a fire. Or, at least that’s what the boy thought they were.   
What they really were, were two men with a wagon. One was tall and thin and looked like a scarecrow on a stick with his shock of white hair standing up like a cock’s comb on his head. The other was short and stout and appeared as mean as the other was lean. The first man was dressed in a pale blue shirt and hose, both decorated with multicolored ribbons. He looked like a clown. The second was anything but. He wore a black suit as well as a cloak. On his balding head he sported a fancy red satin hat just like the one Ben’s oldest boy had been wearing.   
Written on the wagon behind the pair were the words: Professor Mar-vell, Seer – See-er of Past, Present, and Future – and His Traveling Medicine Show.   
The wagon was red and gold and black and covered with paintings. They depicted handsome men with wings and beautiful women sporting mermaid’s tails.  
The fey folk.   
Little Joe headed straight for it. I tried to hold him back, but he dropped my reins quick as a cowboy could and headed right for it, like a moth to the flame.  
Which is what I was afraid the boy was.   
“Well, now! What do we have here?” the short stout man asked, his voice too loud and overly cheerful.  
“Must be a spirit risen for All Hallows Eve come to haunt us,” the clown declared, his voice as reedy as his frame.   
“I ain’t no spirit,” Ben’s youngest proclaimed. “I’m little Joe Cartwright.”  
I shook my head. Never a good thing to say.   
“Cartwright?” the short fat man repeated, his interest growing. “Ben Cartwright’s boy? Ben Cartwright of the Ponderosa? ”  
“Uh huh....” Little Joe scowled. “What’re you doing here? This is Hoss’ place!”  
The two men looked at each other and then back at him. “Hoss?” the thin one asked.   
The boy nodded fiercely. “That’s my older brother and this is his special place. You ain’t supposed to be here. I came here ‘cause I had to, ‘cause of I don’t want to get in trouble and I need to talk to the birds and catch me a rabbit and you’re in the way!” Ben’s youngest son took a step forward. “If my Pa catches you on our land he’ll shoot you!”  
“Now, boy...Joe. May I call you Joe?” the fat man asked.  
Little Joe sniffed. “Well, I don’t know....”  
“How about if I introduce myself?” The man in the black suit bowed and, with a flourish of his cloak, announced, “I am Professor Mar-vell, Seer and See-er of the future! And this is my able assistant, Balthazar.”  
The boy frowned as he eyed the clown. “Like the king in the Bible?”  
The professor nodded. “Just like.”  
Little Joe blinked. “Adam said I gotta find feathers soft enough for a king’s bed. That’s why I need to talk to the birds.” He paused. “You got a bed, King Balthazar? One with feathers?”  
The two men exchanged a glance. “Why, he certainly does,” Professor Mar-vell agreed. “It’s in the wagon.” My muscles tensed as the professor and the other man shared an avaricious glance. “I bet if you asked nicely enough, Balthazar would take you in there and let you have some of the feathers for...whatever you need them for.”  
Now, Ben’s boy wasn’t stupid. But he was four years old.  
“I ain’t supposed to go with strangers.”  
“But, Little Joe, we aren’t strangers,” Professor Marvel explained. “I met your brother, Adam, just the other day. He was in Eagle Station with one of your ranch hands, picking up supplies. We asked about you and your family and, as a matter of fact, we were just headed your way to...pick up...something.” Mar-vell grinned wickedly. “You’ve just saved us the trouble.”  
As Professor Mar-vell and Balthazar advanced, Little Joe fell back. “Just...what...were you coming to the Ponderosa pick up?” he asked.  
The fat man lunged and caught Little Joe by the arm.  
“You!” he proclaimed.

Now, I can tell you that by nature I’m a peaceful sort. Never carried a gun or wanted to. If you asked Ben Cartwright, he’d say I was about the gentlest creature he’d ever met.   
But one of my own was threatened.   
As Professor Mar-vell took hold of Ben’s youngest, I stamped my foot and shrieked a warning, hoping to scare the shyster off. He eyed me like I was about as worthless as a pail of hot spit and started tugging the boy toward his wagon. That made me mad, so I lowered my head and butted the man right in his big fat belly, freeing Little Joe from his grip and knocking Mar-vell’s sorry hide nearly back to Eagle Station. Balthazar came at me then, his bony hands flying to catch hold of that black mane of mine.   
Didn’t Little Joe pick up that butterfly net of his brother’s and crack that scarecrow across the shins?  
By that time I was snorting and baring my teeth. I struck the ground a few times, just to let them know I meant business, and then started to back the pair toward that gaudy wagon of theirs. Then, when we got real close, I let my temper get the best of me. I reared up and struck out and took those two no-good lowlifes down.  
They was laying by the wagon, senseless, when the boy’s father and brothers found us a short time later. Little Joe’d wrapped them up in Hop Sing’s orange and black paper chains and was standing guard with his butterfly net. He knew his pa would come.  
I did too.  
That’s what Cartwrights do. They take care of their own. 

That night I got a special feed bucket at the table, right there in the middle of all the guests. Old Ben, well, he treated me like a hero. Said I’d saved his boy. If you’re wondering, Little Joe didn’t get in trouble for heading out in the dark to look for a basket woven of branches new, feathers from wings, and rabbit fur.   
I can’t say the same for Adam.   
Once the party was over, I thought my day in the sun was too. But after that sun went down, Ben came out to the barn to see me.   
“I can’t thank you enough for what you did, old friend,” he said as he reached out a hand. “If not for you, I could have lost my boy. When I took Professor Mar-vell and his cohort to the jail, Roy told me they were wanted for kidnapping. It seems their scheme was to set up in a town, find out who was wealthy, and then take one of their children and hold them for ransom.” The older man paused. He had tears in his eyes. “This isn’t enough, but I want you to have it.”  
Then, he dropped an extra scoop of oats in my bucket.   
“Thanks, Buck. You’re the best friend a man could have.”   
_____  
END


End file.
